Nutsy
by Walter the Wizard
Summary: Harry's innocuous crush on Heinrich Himmler leads to unforeseen consequences.


**Nutsy**

_by Walter the Wizard_

It was two in the morning, but instead of sleeping soundly in his bed like he was supposed to be, Harry Potter was in the Room of Requirement, wearing nothing but a gauzy pink cloak and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a shrine of sorts, which was a circular section of the floor covered in rose petals whose color matched that of Harry's ethereal garment. Amid the petals stood burning candles which surrounded a large portrait of Heinrich Himmler. Harry was breathing heavily as he stared, transfixed, at the photograph while touching himself.

Yes, Harry was masturbating to a picture of the late Reichsführer-SS, something that might seem bizarre to a Muggle, but not to someone who had seen men with faces on the backs of their heads and shared a mystical bond with a demonic Dark Lord. As far as Harry was concerned, he was simply indulging in a perfectly healthy and acceptable sexual practice that helped ease his tension and allowed him to better know and understand his own body, which was something every human being was entitled to. Harry had always liked to touch himself in front of a mirror, but this was taken to a new level when he accidentally saw the Nazi Minister of the Interior on TV at the Dursleys' (a documentary about World War II was airing at the time). Himmler's uncanny resemblance to himself, coupled with his stylish uniform, made Harry extremely aroused, and he even had to leave the room lest the Dursleys notice his boner. The rest, as they say, was history. Harry had procured several photographs of the Reichsführer, to which he regularly masturbated (he was initially somewhat disturbed by the fact that Himmler turned him on a lot more than any girl did, but then he figured it was just a natural part of growing up). The candles, rose petals and cloak were added later, when Harry had discovered that a combination of pink and candle light created an intensely erotic atmosphere. Hardly a night went by that he didn't visit the Room of Requirement for some "special time" with the Reichsführer. Tonight, however, was going to be different, as Harry was about to discover.

He could feel the climax approaching. His breathing ragged and shallow, Harry rubbed frantically at his penis. At the last moment he bent forward, so that his semen splattered Himmler's picture. Harry's eyes rolled back as he was transported to heaven for a few seconds. Then he slumped with a great sigh, propping himself on one hand. It was about twenty seconds later, when his breathing and pulse had returned to normal and he had raised his head, that he noticed something unusual.

The splashes of semen on the portrait appeared to be gone. As he squinted, Harry saw the last droplets seep into the picture before his eyes. He was reminded of the way Tom Riddle's diary used to soak up ink. Harry stared at the picture, forgetting to breathe. For a couple of seconds nothing happened, and then the picture came to life.

Harry yelped in shock as Himmler turned his head, locking his gaze on him. The picture frame expanded as the bespectacled Nazi reached through and planted his hand on the floor. Harry scrambled back in terror as Himmler, now three-dimensional and colored, pulled himself out of the picture and stood in front of him, his polished jackboots treading the rose petals.

"_Frei! Endlich frei!_" shouted Himmler, throwing his hands in the air and laughing manically. Then he looked down at Harry, his glasses reflecting the candle light. "_Frei dank einem Judenbuben. So etwas h__ätte ich mir niemals vorstellen können. Das Schicksal kann doch ironisch sein._"

"I – I don't understand," stammered Harry.

"Silly little boy," said Himmler with a heavy accent. "By your disgusting practices, you have brought me back to life. Regular emissions of magical semen that you so kindly administered on my portrait have given me enough power to break out of the underworld. Didn't they teach you at this magical school of yours that by investing emotions, let alone magical bodily fluids, into a dead person, you feed them strength? _Nein?_ That's just as well." He laughed again. "Now I am free to finish what I started over fifty years ago! Soon, the Aryan race will rule supreme and all the Jews will be annihilated, starting…" Himmler drew a gun from the holster on his belt and pointed it at Harry, "…with you."

"But I'm not Jewish!" protested Harry.

"Ha!" laughed Himmler. "As if anyone but a Jew could have such messy, coarse black hair and such disgusting, perverted masturbatory habits! You cannot deceive the Reichsführer-SS, silly little _Untermensch_!" He fired his gun, spraying the floor with Harry's brains.

"_Adieu,__ mein kleiner j__üdischer Zauberer,_" said Himmler, looking down at Harry's lifeless body, a pool of blood spreading around his head. Blowing on the barrel of his gun, the Reichsführer holstered it. "_Und jetzt geht man an die Arbeit! Es ist Zeit, die SS wiederaufzustellen!_" He stepped over Harry's corpse and strode toward the door.

Himmler eventually failed to unleash a second Holocaust, having seriously overestimated his capabilities and being unable to adapt to the modern world, although he did stir up some trouble. On the other hand, Harry's murder had profound consequences. With him gone, Lord Voldemort was able to set himself up as the ruler of magical Britain and eventually the whole world. Dumbledore perished while trying to destroy one of the Horcruxes, and the secret of Voldemort's immortality died with him. The world paid a high price for a few nightly seconds of Harry's pleasure.


End file.
